I'm Your Mess
by agrove
Summary: Lucifer's a royal mess, but Chloe loves him just the way he is. Post 1x13. One-shot.


Lux was full tonight, as it was every night really, and Chloe seamlessly blended into the crowd after entering, her name permanently on the list. Bodies slithered around her, the beat pounded in her chest, lyrics about the devil filling her ears. Dropping down onto one of the ivory couches she finally noticed the man she had been seeking by the bar looking as handsome as ever.

He was dressed to perfection as always, suit tailored to accentuate his height and leanness, color matched to complement his dark eyes and hair. He was grinning at something someone was saying to him, his perfect white teeth on display between perfectly pink lips. The man was perfection, all smooth lines only interrupted by sinful features; the permanent five o'clock shadow, the long black lashes that rested against his cheeks when he blinked, the twinkle of mirth in his almost black eyes.

Everything about him was bad. The ever present glass of alcohol in his grip, the cigarette between his fingers, the flash of his billfold in his jacket that only held hundreds. He was walking sin, encouraging every desire, fearing no consequences, meeting life head on and reveling in the feelings of untamed wildness.

She could have sworn he had died when Malcolm pulled the trigger. The shot ringing out, the harsh jerk of his body, and the painful gasp that echoed through the hanger. She had seen the blood soaking his plum shirt, the red liquid slick and reflective on his fingers when he touched the wetness, watched him collapse onto the concrete floor, body shivering from blood loss and the spasms of his dying breaths. But he hadn't died by some miracle. She still wasn't sure had happened but what it came down to was that he had saved her and her daughter's life. Had bucked the system once again, found a just wide enough loophole to slide through. A lie was something he never told, he had promised to never lie to her, and yet he had still found a way around her pleading words.

A woman approached him and he effortlessly slid his arm around her waist, no reservations even though she doubted he had ever even seen this one before. He was such a wreck, a hurricane of mayhem and chaos. An alcoholic, sex addict, drug addict, OCD, nicotine loving fool who had zero regard for laws or rules. He called himself Lucifer, thought he was the devil himself. The ultimate evil but no matter how cruel he claimed to be, how much of a punisher he just wasn't mean. The man had a good soul and a soft heart that were covered and suffocating in scar tissue that had taken years to form. Some days it seemed his only conscious was her, that she was the voice of morality in an otherwise impulsive mind.

Lucifer threw his head back and laughed before downing his drink and finishing his cigarette, smirking when another woman walked up and lifted a tiny baggie in front of him. Drugs of course. Vaguely she wondered if she would find him dead one day, sprawled on the floor with haunted eyes permanently open and blood creeping from his nose and lips. She wouldn't though, the man was invincible. For as much as he partook in every possible vice he never waivered at her side, never let her down. The man was an enigma, something she would probably never figure out and had long since given up on trying.

Her eyes watched as he twisted the blonde around into him and kissed her deeply; oblivious or just not caring that it was becoming borderline inappropriate in such a public place. The three ascended the staircase, no doubt to get the treat of their lives in the Devil's den of inequity and she couldn't help but laugh at how giddy he was. This was a man that half the time didn't seem real, the other half couldn't be taken seriously. He was walking sex, could bend women and most men to his will with just a look let alone a touch.

There was a time she had thought she had wanted to be one of those women, one of the many he brought to his home and showered with affections and pleasure you could only dream of but that was ages ago. She loved him, that was a given, but not in a romantic way. He was her constant, her best friend, her confident, her partner. Very few people got past her walls, the walls that had been built brick by brick from her brief acting career, to her father's death, to the separation. Lucifer had smashed right through them with all the delicacy of a raging bull, had forced and wormed his way into every crack and crevasse of her world. The funny thing was she had done the same to him.

When it was just them he was different, more authentic, more relaxed. On days off they would watch movies on her bed and eat popcorn or he would try to teach her the piano. They drank cheap wine coolers instead of expensive liquor and would eat pie straight from the box from the diner down the street. The seat dipped next to her and she looked over to see two gleaming shoes attached to obscenely long legs followed by a lithe body as Lucifer climbed over the back of the seat and plopped down next to her. He looked deliciously debauched, hair mussed and an extra button undone, collar shifted just enough to show red marks along the lines of his neck and shoulder.

"That was quick," she grinned.

Lucifer leaned into her side and slid his arm around her back comfortably. "Doesn't mean it wasn't the most fantastic orgasms of their lives," he argued cheekily. "Plus I couldn't take too long, we're viewing The Graduate tonight. I'm quite eager for this one."

"I bet." Chloe rose to her feet and waited for him to do the same, casting him a flat look when she noticed the white powder around his nose. Making the motion he got the hint and quickly wiped it from his face without any hint of embarrassment. The man was a disaster, the dark to her light, the night to her day, the criminal to her cop. He wasn't a bad man; he just made continuously bad decisions.

"You're a mess," she laughed.

He grinned widely and held open the door to the alley for her, always the gentleman. "Yes but I'm your mess."


End file.
